


Baker Who

by DiscipleOfBrad



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bake Off, Baking, Competition, F/M, Humor, Nardole wants to host
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23722054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscipleOfBrad/pseuds/DiscipleOfBrad
Summary: With Matt Lucas now the host of the Great British Bake Off, I thought it would be interesting to see how some of our favourite characters would cope in the formidable tent.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Baker Who

**Author's Note:**

> Something very different from the other stories I've written. Completely bonkers and you shouldn't think too much about how the characters know each other! It was very fun to write so please leave kudos and comments generously!

The sun seemed to be unnaturally bright as it looked down upon a large white tent situated in the middle of a luscious, pristine garden. Surrounded by an array of bushes and taller trees, it was a symbol of a proud nation. It incorporated the values of comradeship, teamwork, and perseverance. Yet it also embodied broken dreams, regrettable mistakes, and diabolical sabotage. It didn't look like much. Anyone without any knowledge on what it truly was would have just presumed that the owners of the rather lavish and fancy mansion in the distance had recently had a garden party. But he knew what it was. He’d discovered one episode late one night when he had been sorting through the Tardis archives, grumbling as he did so since he didn't appreciate being given such menial tasks. His curiosity had peaked, he’d sat down for what he only anticipated to be a few minutes, and then proceeded to binge watch every minute with his eyes glued to the screen. He loved it. He loved it so much that he had wanted to recreate it. He’d been plotting. And that explained why the tent was now under new ownership for the time being (no one would know that they were using it anyway. He was only borrowing it, for goodness sake), controlled by someone who thought of themselves as quite the diabolical genius. Although no one ever believed him when he said so.

“Why am I being recorded?” a gruff Scottish voice said as a pair of angry eyebrows stared down the lense of a camera. “What are we even doing here? No, I don’t care why you’re here. I want to know why  _ I  _ am here.” The Doctor wasn’t best pleased, not that he often was. He didn't have time for this. He should be stopping an evil force from taking over a planet. Or solving what everyone else thought was an unsolvable mystery. Not being roped into this crazy idea.

“Because that’s what they do on the show!” Nardole answered with a roll of his eyes. “Before they start baking. They get asked about how they think the day is going to go. Any nerves they have. Things like that.” He knew why the Doctor was grumpy. He’d locked the Tardis controls, stopping him from flying anywhere but this location, until he acquiesced. He was always forgetting how good he was at working with his ship.

“But I don’t want to bake. I think the day is going to go terribly because of that fact.”

“You think it’s going to go terribly because you know you’re going to lose since I’m better than you at baking,” a voice rang out behind him. Nardole zoomed in to see Clara with a smile walking up to them, apron already on covering a red top and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. The Doctor simply glared at her as she approached. She was far too smug for his liking and he realised there would only be one way of changing that.

“How did he get you involved in this?”

“Easily. I love this show. I watch it all the time when I’m not flying across the universe with you.”

“I’m so sorry for keeping you from what you truly love,” he said sarcastically.

“Aww. Don’t be jealous. You know you’re my number one.” A smile flickered on his face at that comment, which Nardole made sure the cameras picked up on. 

“Can you ban any flirting from going on within this...gazebo?” a feminine Scottish accent asked. The Doctor’s expression turned dark once again as he glared at his enemy/best friend. Missy just smirked at his expression, dragging along a confused Bill by the arm.

“No. Why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s an opportunity to beat you. Any chance I get at that, I’m going to take. Just to see your sad little face when I inevitably win.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’ve brought Bill along.”

“That was my idea,” Nardole piped up, struggling with the weight of the camera. He hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. “We need at least four contestants really. I thought she’d be the perfect fit. Because she was the only other person available. You don’t exactly excel in making friends.”

“I offered to pick her up!” Missy explained. “Since I’m trying to be nice like you told me to be. We were just getting to know one another. Having a wee chit chat like these humans love.”

“It was a harrowing experience,” Bill whimpered, looking at the other two for help. 

“I said no flirting,” the Time Lady said with a shake of her head. “Dearie me. Are any of you going to listen?”

“But I do like cooking,” Bill continued as she ignored the woman next to her. “There better be a chips round or something.”

“There won’t be,” Nardole answered straight away. “Because that’s not baking, is it? Now, will you all shoo? I’ve got to do the interviews!”

xxxxxxxx

“What do I want?” the Doctor asked. “I want to go to my Tardis and get away from here. Is that possible?”

“That’s not what I meant. What sort of bake do you prefer to do normally? Cakes? Biscuits? Bread?”

“Well, I do like biscuits. Can I just go buy some? Is that against the rules or something?”

“Yes! It’s meant to be a well-meaning competition.”

“Fine then. But just know that there’s no way that Clara thinks this is a ‘well-meaning’ competition.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“He’s scared isn’t he?” Clara grinned at the camera with a determined look in her eyes. “He’s worried that it’ll damage his reputation when he’s rubbish at this.”

“I actually asked whether you’re nervous about competing. Lots of people say that the tent is strangely imposing.”

“Me? Nervous? Never. I’m a natural baker. Apart from souffles. I can never seem to crack them. Are they going to come up?”

“I can’t tell you what the technical challenge will be. You should be focusing on your Signature.”

“I know, I know. I’ve got it all planned out. I was actually practicing in the Tardis kitchens. She kept misplacing my bowls to annoy me so I had to keep restarting. Which might mean that my timing is all over the place.”

“Getting your excuses ready just in case?” The camera feed was, for some reason, lost before she responded. Nardole still refuses to comment on the incident to this day.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I think that everyone sees me as the underdog,” Bill commented as she nodded her head in thought. She was messing with the collar of her top, clearly nervous about going into the tent and starting baking. 

“Does that add or take away pressure?”

“I guess...both?” she shrugged. “I mean...if they don’t expect me to do well, then whatever positives I get out of this will surprise them all. But then there’s a voice inside my head urging me to win this thing to prove them wrong. I’m my own worst nightmare sometimes.”

“You should try taking your brain out for a while. I did it once in this very strange spa. Very good for a detox.”

“...you’re incredibly strange. Do you know that?”

“People repeatedly say that, yes. But you’re no longer thinking about the pressure, are you?” She opened her mouth to respond before realising what he had done. She lightly punched him on the arm playfully, making him yelp out in pain.

“You’re cleverer than people realise, aren’t you? Full of surprises.”

“It’s good to see someone finally see the truth. It’s taken years for my brilliance to be noted. Now, back to cakes…”

xxxxxxxxxx

“What’s your technique going to be throughout this experience?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Missy responded, already bored with doing this after less than a minute. “Probably goad the rest of them. Get inside their heads, make them doubt themselves. The usual shebang. I’m presuming that’s what other contestants do?”

“Not...at all. It’s normally quite quiet or they have a laugh with one another. It’s meant to be pleasant viewing.”

“I don’t want that to happen. Where’s the fun in that? Are there any rules against tampering with their bakes?”

“I think that would get you disqualified.” She glared at him, her eyes practically slits as they narrowed. He gulped audibly, the camera slightly shaking.  _ He was not going to wet himself. He was not going to wet himself _ .

“Are you threatening me? Because, normally when people do that, they end up in the middle of a black hole or in the centre of a volcano. You don’t want that to happen, do you, darling?” He shook his head.

“No, ma’am.”

xxxxxxxxxx

They stood behind their respective benches with differing levels of anticipation. Clara and Bill seemed to be the most excited, sharing nervous smiles as the latter turned her head back to look at her fellow opponent. The Doctor was just wanting to get through this as quickly as possible, whereas Missy was looking forward to causing as much havoc as possible. Nardole, with an excited grin, entered the baking area, followed by a trio of people that none of them had been expecting.

“And I thought this day couldn’t get any worse,” the Doctor moaned. Strax gave them all a small wave, dressed in a Victorian baker’s outfit complete with an over-the-top chef’s hat. Vastra simply rolled her eyes at her servant’s antics. The person the Doctor was most annoyed at seeing was Robin Hood, who had given a theatrical bow in greeting along with a hearty chuckle. He was already testing the Time Lord’s presence. “Of all the people in the universe, why did it have to be him?”

“It’s actually good to see him,” Clara remarked, prompting the Doctor to glare at her dangerously. “What? In the end, you liked him. You even told me so as we left.”

“Did he now?” Robin asked, laughing again. “It is my proudest achievement to have left a lasting impression on your good self.”

“I did not say that. Clara must be getting confused.”

“Hey!”

“I brought them all here,” Nardole explained, trying to take back control of what was meant to be his show. “To take part. Vastra and Strax will be our judges.”

“I have a lot of experience in the art of baking,” Strax spoke up. “You should know that whoever is deemed the worst today will face the end of my laser blaster as forfeit.” Vastra stepped in front of him before he could make more threats.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “All we want is a fair contest and to eat some good food.”

“Robin is here to be my co-host,” Nardole continued. “A vital component of the show’s format. We’re meant to have banter between ourselves and the contestants.” The Doctor bristled at the mention of the ‘b’ word, Clara trying to hold in her laughter at his obvious anger. 

“I will throw this spatula at you if you carry on this path,” he warned menacingly.

“Ooo, the big bad Time Lord acting all tough,” Missy cooed. “And he tries to pretend that he’s nothing like me.”

“But...the Doctor doesn’t do banter,” Bill argued. The man in question gratefully waved his hand towards her.

“Thank you!”

“Because he’s far too old to know what that term means.” That spoiled his brief moment of happiness, wishing that he hadn’t thanked her. 

“Can we get back on track? We need to outline what your first challenge is to the audience.”

“There...isn’t an audience though,” Clara pointed out.

“Shush. Our too wonderful judges have set you the task of making brownies.”

“I hadn’t heard of these delightful fellows before,” Robin said. “But they are utterly scrumptious. They want twelve identical pieces, all gooey in the centre and slightly crisp around the edges.”

“You can add your own special touches to it. Higher marks for creativity as always. And you have one and a half hours. On your marks.”

“Get set.”

“Baaaaake.”

They all immediately got to work, getting their ingredients out in an orderly fashion and reading through the recipes they’d brought along. The Doctor was surprised at how quiet the room became once they got stuck in. Clara looked especially focused, eyeing him up suspiciously when she caught him looking at her. Bill was the first to be visited by the judges and Nardole, who were observing what she was doing closely. She glanced nervously at them, not enjoying the scrutiny they were putting her under. 

“What are you doing for us today?” Vastra asked kindly.

“Um...I’m planning on just sticking to your regular sort of brownie. Make sure that I get the basics right. If it tastes good, then I can’t lose, can I?”

“Any icing to go on top?” Nardole queried.

“I might melt some chocolate to drizzle over it. Can’t go wrong with that.” They smiled as they left her, Bill feeling much more nervous than she had been. It probably explained why, once the brownies came out of the oven, she accidentally dropped the tray after moving some over onto her bench to let them cool off. Hoping that no one had noticed, she picked the couple that had fallen up from the floor, only to realise that they were now covered in dirt. With no time to bake any new ones, she had to accept that she’d only be able to provide ten to be judged.

The Doctor and Missy, who had both added chocolate chips to their desserts, were appalled to hear Clara receive the best comments when the bake was over, Strax claiming to love the strawberry swirl she had injected into her ‘brownie delights’. The Doctor had been especially frustrated when Robin had laughed when he was told that his were slightly over-baked, threatening to feed them all to him until he exploded. 

xxxxxxxxxx

“I’m telling you, it’s an utter disgrace,” Missy complained afterwards. “I actually tried to do my best there and what did I get? Living in that small human’s shadow. It’s not going to last.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“Yeah, that could have gone better,” Bill admitted. “It was just always going to be, wasn’t it? There’s always one who has an accident. At least I didn't start crying. I always cringe when contestants do that.”

“They did say that they tasted very nice though,” Nardole said encouragingly.

“Every cloud, I guess. We just go again. War paint on and everything.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“Alright, everyone!” Nardole greeted. “You’ve got through one challenge. Now it’s time for the most difficult one. For the signature, you were able to prep and practise beforehand. This time, you’re coming into this completely blind. What are they doing, Robin?”

“They’ve been given one hell of a task, I’m told. Something called a souffle.” Clara gasped loudly and stared daggers at the now worried host.

“Nardole!” she screeched. “I told you that there couldn’t be souffles because I can’t do them! I swear to god...watch your back.” He gulped audibly, hiding behind his partner. 

“Doctor, have you heard that? Your precious little friend has a weakness. Who would have thought it?” Missy teased him with an evil smirk. 

“She doesn’t have a single weakness in my eyes,” he quickly commented before realising what he said. Clara couldn’t help the blush on her face but still sent him a small smile. “Um...I mean...you’ve got this, Clara. I believe in you.”

“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me. I should get you to bake more often. This could be our little thing.”

“Dear God, they’re like a disgustingly sweet couple!” Missy moaned, hitting her head on the bench. “Can I bake my eyes so I don’t have to sit through this anymore?”

“I say! What a strange yet delightful woman!” Robin cheered. “She is completely bonkers.”

“If you say one more word, I’ll unleash her upon you,” the Doctor warned with a tired sigh. She winked at the now worried pony-tailed man. 

“Do the judges have any tips?” Nardole asked.

“Don’t put any grenades in the mixture. They split the eggs and then you have no chance of success,” Strax informed them as if what he was saying was a useful piece of advice.

“What Strax means to say is, don’t open your oven door unless absolutely necessary,” Vastra took over. “If you do, it’ll be a complete disaster.”

Safe to say, Clara’s souffle collapsed in on itself by the end of the time they were given despite the Doctor’s encouragement. He had wished her to do well even though they were competing against one another. It surprised him how willing he was to see her win instead of himself. He couldn’t tell her that though; she’d be unbearable, going on about how he was going soft on her and how she now had an advantage over him. Maybe he would tell her. Just to see her initial surprised smile. It hadn’t stopped him from using his sonic screwdriver to check when his souffle was ready, pulling it out at the precisely correct moment to produce a perfect dessert. Hard on the top, soft in the middle. He was actually quite proud although his companion had been very suspicious of his unexpected success. She would proceed to bug him for the next week on how he accomplished such a feat without breaking him. When the Tardis finally relented and showed her the evidence, she had banished him to his room without tea or guitar privileges.

Missy, on the other hand, had decided that her knowledge was far superior to the simple recipe and so had thrown it in the bin. Half an hour into the bake, she had created something so monstrous that Robin had fainted. Strax, with a blindfold on so that he couldn’t see what the other bakers were doing, was tasked with destroying all remnants of it outside by incinerating it. Sadly, because of the blindfold, he instead blew up the oldest tree in the garden without realising, much to the consternation of the owners when they returned later. Amidst all the chaos, Bill had focused on the task completely, following each instruction carefully. Although not perfect and not able to compete with the Doctor’s due to his unknown advantage, the judges said that it was a very worthy attempt, making her jump in celebration and kiss the Sontaran on the head, instantly regretting that decision. With Missy obviously placed in last, Clara was content to take third after roping the Doctor into a conciliatory hug (something he hadn’t complained about as much as he really should have), who had come out on top of the pile.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I’m not talking to you,” Clara simply said with an icy tone, never willing to forgive him for the stunt he had pulled.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Second. I can’t believe it!” Bill yelled into the camera with a massive grin. “I’m telling you, the comeback starts here, my friend! They’ll make a film about this. ‘Bake From the Dead’ or something like that. They can change the title.”

xxxxxxxxxx

“How was I supposed to know that the recipe was vitally important?” Missy moaned. “No one told me that!”

“Actually...I did,” Nardole reminded her. “I made it perfectly clear that all you had was a basic recipe to follow.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No! No. Um...maybe you just didn't hear me…”

“Because...if you are...I will go back into that tent, grab the largest spoon I can find and…”

xxxxxxxxxx

“I can’t believe it!” the Doctor said with an actual smile on his face. “Who would have known that souffles were my thing?”

“Are you actually enjoying yourself now? I knew that you’d come around to the idea.”

“Don’t tell Clara this but...I might be having some fun with this. And it’s good to see her in her natural habitat, all focused and competitive. You know, she gets this small smile on her face when she’s concentrating, like she’s enjoying the challenge and I can’t do anything other than admire her for that mindset.”

“Are you forgetting that this is on camera?” The Doctor’s face blanched.

“You can never show her this. Under any circumstances. Do you understand?” Nardole would immediately go show her, which explained the extra tight hug she gave the Time Lord the next time she saw him.

xxxxxxxxx

“This is it! The showstopper round!” Nardole sang happily, doing jazz hands that everyone else cringed at, apart from Robin, who instantly had to copy him.

“It’s been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Probably since I first met our dear Doctor,” he agreed. “You know what? I feel a laugh building up…” Before he could carry on with that, an egg landed square in his face, exploding all over him. The Doctor innocently glanced around, shrugging at Clara in wonder, not realising that everyone could see his egg carton had one less in it than everyone else. As Robin tidied himself up, Nardole finished hosting on his own. 

“We want you to create a three-tiered, three-dimensional cake! It can be any type, any flavour, but it has to taste and, most importantly, look good! You have three hours!”

The Doctor had spent hours working out the correct measurements and dimensions so that his miniature Tardis console would work out. By the end of the three hours, he had flour all over his face (something Clara had said was incredibly cute, taking a photo without him noticing that she would later frame, as well as sending a copy to Kate Stewart and everyone at UNIT) but a very respectable cake. He was slightly annoyed that the fondant he made was a touch too bright a blue and the top had begun to collapse as he brought it to the judges. They said it tasted perfectly of chocolate and the overall design was commendable, comments he didn't think were complimentary enough. He’d have liked to have seen them create something better but he didn't say anything to Vastra because he knew what she was capable of.

He had been surprised to see Clara seemingly make a simple chair out of a vanilla sponge with jam and cream. She explained that it was actually the chair that sat on the balcony in the control room, her favourite spot to read and watch him explain strange things to her. She’d even decorated it with some small books that always appeared to have fallen from the shelves or been tossed away by him when he was in a grumpy mood. He hadn’t realised she enjoyed that spot so much, mentally relabelling it as her seat from now on. He was planning on making a plaque to commemorate it.

Bill created a replica of her lecture theatre, complete with figures that were meant to be the Doctor teaching everyone and her in the audience. Even she had to admit that they looked nothing like them but she had still enjoyed making them. The cake itself had a hidden surprise, a pattern swirled into the mixture to symbolise the vivid stories he spun during his lessons. The judges had lauded the technique shown although did say that the sponge was a bit too dry. She explained that she had been so busy sculpting the Doctor’s face that she hadn’t heard her timer.

Then there was Missy’s cake. It was meant to be a representation of Gallifrey, reminiscing about her childhood home. What had confused the Doctor was that it looked to be in ruins. He didn't know whether that was a purposeful design choice or it had collapsed under its own weight. When he asked her this, she had simply replied “spoilers” before ignoring him for the next hour. It was the judges least favourite of the four mainly because of the taste. They couldn’t quite place it so she had been forced to tell them that it did actually contain ash since it was meant to be a wreckage. Strax had been far more complimentary after hearing this bit of information.

xxxxxxxxx

Vastra, Strax, Robin and Nardole all stood in a line facing the nervous contestants, who were sitting on high stools. The Doctor didn't know why he was so anxious, presuming that he had got wrapped up into the competition. He was thankful for the feel of Clara’s soft hand in his to comfort his rapidly beating hearts. Nardole had the honour of holding the apron, the main prize other than honour and the right to laud it over everyone else.

“Are we all ready for the moment of truth?” he asked. “Haven’t we all had fun? I think we’ve all become closer throughout this time together and I doubt I will ever forget this.”

“Will you get on with it?” Missy asked, her voice sickly sweet but with an undertone of malice.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Today’s star baker and the winner of this rather snazzy apron is…” They all leaned forward. For the Doctor, this would mean that he could actually do stuff humans did, something he had been worrying about since coming into this regeneration. For Clara, this would mean finally having the proof she needed to show him she could be like him but also to tell herself that she could be like her mum. For Bill, this would mean that she wasn’t as hopeless as everyone else thought, being able to do more than just cook chips. For Missy, this would mean showing the Doctor that she could stop herself from doing evil sometimes. “Me! Nardie!” They looked at him in shock as he got a stunned Robin to place the apron over his head.

“Are you kidding me?” Bill shouted as they all stood up. 

“You didn't even bake!” Clara complained, wanting the Doctor to do something about this. Or stop her from hurting Nardole.

“I set up the whole competition! I deserve this! I’m the one who loves the show anyway. This is my moment. They wouldn’t accept me on the proper show because I’m not ‘human’, the racists.”

“Excuse me a moment,” Missy said calmly, walking to the back of the tent and out of view. That made the Doctor’s eyes widen in panic, grabbing Clara’s hand tightly.

“We all need to get out of here quickly!” he said urgently, dragging her to the open flaps. Just as they did so, emerging into the sunshine onto the green field, they watched as the tent somehow caught fire, the flames spreading quickly before it collapsed in front of them.

“We’re going to have to get them a new tent, aren’t we?” Clara asked, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Yes, we are. And I know who can pay for such an expense.” They all looked at Nardole, who was busy checking that his apron hadn’t been damaged.

“Me? Why? I didn't do it! I don’t even have money!”

“But you’re star baker. You could raise funds. Have a bake sale.”


End file.
